


a night of calm in the storm

by yunmin



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Cunnilingus, Extra Treat, F/F, F/M, Multi, Smut, Star Wars Rare Pairs Exchange 2017, Teasing, Threesome - F/F/M, Vaginal Sex, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2019-02-05 05:42:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12788253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yunmin/pseuds/yunmin
Summary: Mon Mothma is surprised to discover Wedge Antilles and Leia Organa in her personal quarters, in a state of disarray. When she realises that they are waiting for her, well… she isn’t one to deny them their request





	a night of calm in the storm

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JumpingJill](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JumpingJill/gifts).



It’s getting late when Mon finally escapes her meetings. She had hopes of an early night, but things overran, as they always do. But she skips the idea of a late night in her office filing datawork, and heads straight for her quarters.

She keys in the code, opens the door – well, she’d flick on the light switch but it’s already on. Her eyes settle on the sofa that she keeps in her sitting room, and the two people who are sitting on it.

Both Wedge Antilles and Leia Organa are regular visitors to her quarters, but not together, usually not at this time of night, and never uninvited. Add to that the fact that Leia is sprawled across Wedge’s lap, and the flushed looks on both their faces would seem to indicate that they’ve been up to no good, and Mon is truly baffled as to what on earth they are doing here.

Mon puts a hand to her forehead. She’s too old for these sorts of antics. “I’m not going to ask any questions, so can you two both just get out of here?” She can feel the stress rising in her bones. She just wants to lie down and relax, just for a moment.

“Mon—” Leia scrambles to her feet. Her cheeks are flushed, and there are tendrils of her hair falling free of her delicately braided hair. Her words falter. “We were waiting for you.”

Confusion crosses Mon’s face. As far as she is aware, Wedge and Leia aren’t working on anything together right now, not even in the same area, so they haven’t come to her about a mission. The only person who is their shared concern is Skywalker, who is currently on mission and not expected back for three days. So it can’t be that.

Then she looks to Wedge. He’s sitting, legs spread wide on her sofa, a cocky smirk across his face. He’s hard, and unabashed about his arousal, the way that it’s tenting his trousers. Others might find his confidence a little smug, possibly grating, but Mon can appreciate it. She also knows that Wedge is well aware that he turns her on; they’ve demonstrated that fact a couple of times now.

“You’ve looked a little tense recently,” Wedge says. “And Leia and I have been talking, we thought you might appreciate some stress relief?”

Mon’s eyebrows shoot up her forehead. Wedge’s form of stress relief is _very_ well known to her; he’s very good at it. But Mon wouldn’t have thought Leia the type to join in with it. She turns her head, looking at the girl. She’s not a girl anymore, Mon keeps forgetting that. She’s a woman, wearing a simple white dress that slopes over her breasts, creased at the sides – what were she and Wedge doing, warming each other up?

“Leia.” Leia’s eyes go a little wide at Mon’s soft voice. “In plain and simple terms, what do you want from this?” It’s a rule Mon has now, after she realised that she held sway over pretty much everyone in her life right now, as the leader of the Alliance. Consent is important to her.

Leia seems uncertain. It’s an unfamiliar look on her face. Wedge stands up, wrapping his arms around Leia’s waist, hooking his chin over her shoulder so he can gaze at Mon too. He whispers something in Leia’s ear, something that makes her blush and squirm. “I want to go to bed with you,” Leia says. “I know how much Wedge helps me, and he’s told me about what he does to you, and I want—” Wedge kisses her neck, eliciting a gasp from her throat. His hands are rising, scraping the underside of her breast. Antilles is a fiendish distraction when he wants to be. “I want to do those things as well.”

“And Antilles, this is all your idea I suppose?”

Wedge shakes his head. “Wasn’t me. But I will say that I am a willing and eager participant in all this, ma’am, just tell me what you want from me and I’ll get things started.”

 _It was Leia_ _’s idea?_ Mon leaves that thought. She’ll come back to it later. “Well. Into bed then, the pair of you.”

.

Leia sits beside Wedge, in the bed of a woman who she’s admired since her early teens, not quite believing this is happening. She’s taken off her dress, leaving it to crumple on the floor, and had obeyed the instruction Mon had given them.

Wedge had stripped much more than that. His shirt, his undershirt, trousers, socks and shoes had all come off, folded and stacked in a neat pile at the edge of Mon’s bed. It leaves him in just his boxer shorts, which do a dreadful job of covering up his arousal.

Not that Leia is in a position to say anything. She knows how slick she is between her thighs; her underwear is soaked through. An hour spent in Wedge Antilles’s lap will do that to a girl. Especially when it had been entwined with the anticipation of Mon’s arrival, the possibility that she could walk in on them any minute. Wedge had kissed her and teased her and his hands had wandered over every inch of skin except the places that Leia desperately wanted him to touch.

Mon is looking at both of them. Leia doesn’t know where to start.

Luckily, it seems Wedge _does_. He scoots to the edge of the bed, opening his legs wide and inviting Mon to step between them. With a wry smile, she obliges him. He pulls her down into a kiss, running his hands up into her hair, fingers entwining in her short red hair. Mon’s hands settle on his shoulders, and then she slowly entwines her hands behind his neck. It’s a gratifying scene to watch; they make an interesting pair.

When Leia discovered that Wedge was sleeping with Mon, her imagination had run wild, envisaging the picture the two of them would make together. What is in front of her does not disappoint. Leia has had a crush on Mon since her early days in the Senate, just as she was being escorted into the Rebellion’s upper echelons. She never quite imagined she’d wind up here. Wedge had figured all this out, because he’s remarkably perceptive. They’d spent one night in bed play-acting, Wedge treating her exactly as he treats Mon, whispering all the filthy things he does in Leia’s ear as he fucked her, telling her exactly how Mon reacts and gasps and moans when Wedge gets her off. It had led to three very memorable orgasms for Leia.

With all that in mind, Leia has no intention of just watching, even though she is aware of how many merits that idea does have. She crosses the bed and slides herself in alongside Wedge, thigh-to-thigh. He’s radiating heat – she’s always liked that about him. When Mon breaks away from Wedge, Leia puts a hand on Wedge’s thigh and darts in for a kiss of her own.

It’s a little clumsy, with less finesse than Leia would like. Her teeth clack with Mon’s as she pushes a little hard, with more force than she probably should, but Mon leans her head into the kiss and moves with it, until it becomes a very pleasant thing. Leia brings a hand up to touch at Mon’s waist, and then the other when Wedge steadies her so she doesn’t need to worry about falling. The dress Mon wears is too long to get hands under, but Leia would do that if she could. As it is, she settles for exploring the shape of Mon, fingers grazing along the sharp bones of her hips, and then the curve of her waist.

“You’re wearing too many clothes, ma’am,” Wedge comments drolly. He’s got Leia half caught in his lap, an arm loosely curled around her hips, fingertips settled tantalisingly close to the edge of Leia’s underwear. Leia’s too overwhelmed to do anything but nod in agreement. He’s right. She is wearing too many clothes.

“You could always fix that, Antilles,” Mon shoots back.

Wedge hoists Leia off his lap, dumping her unceremoniously on the bed as he stands up to do just that. Mon is taller than him, just a few centimetres in it. The result is that he has to lean up to kiss her, which he does so readily. It serves as a distraction whilst he hunts for the clasp on the back of her dress. When he finds it, he grins before releasing it. Slowly, he pushes the dress free of her upper body, down her arms, until it falls to the floor.

Under it is another dress, a short shift. Wedge drops to his knees to reach the hem, pushing it up above her thighs, to her hips. His lips follow the hem, kissing new pieces of Mon’s skin as they are revealed, pausing at the gap between her thighs to inhale her scent. Leia wonders if Mon is as wet as she is, if she wants this as much as Leia does. Mon gasps at the barest hint of touch. “Wedge—” she warns.

“You’re so wet already, ma’am. So ready for me. I could push you against the wall right now and lick right into you, tasting every drop of that sweet nectar, would you like that ma’am?” Mon groans in response, something deep and guttural. She’s fully aware of just how quickly Wedge could take her to pieces.

“Wedge—” Leia’s warning is half-whine, half breathless moan. It drags him out of his stupor, his wide-eyed desire for her. Leia wants to see him do that to Mon, but there are also other things on her mind.

“Oh yeah, I was doing something.” He resumes his course, still tantalisingly slow, until he drags the shift over Mon’s head and discards it.

“Tell me Leia, is he this frustrating when he’s with you?”

Leia smiles. “All the damn time.”

Leia can see Wedge rolling his eyes, mock-offended. She doesn’t pay him much mind because Mon is suddenly in front of her, pushing her back onto the bed. Leia barely has a chance to settle herself before Mon is situating her weight between Leia’s legs and leaning down to kiss Leia.

Mon is confident and demanding in the way she kisses. Her hands roam up Leia’s sides, brushing the underside of Leia’s breast. She unfastens Leia’s bra with ease, pushing it away. Leia suspects that Wedge helps make it disappear, but Leia’s too busy gasping with gentle pleasure when Mon’s hands glance over her breasts to worry about what Wedge is doing. Delicate fingers pinch and twist at Leia’s nipples, pulling further noises from Leia’s throat. Mon abandons Leia’s mouth, deciding to instead run her mouth over Leia’s pulse point, eliciting a heady moan before Leia finally manages to find some words. “Mon—” Mon chooses that moment to suck on Leia’s pulse point, and it takes Leia a moment to remember that she wanted to say things. “Stop. This was supposed to be all about making you feel good, not…” Leia trails off. It’s not that she doesn’t want this. More that this is not how she saw it going.

Mon pauses. Her eyes are curious as she brings them up to examine Leia. “And if this is what I want, Lei?”

Under Mon’s intense gaze, Leia can’t help but squirm. Her eyes flick to Wedge, kneeling on the bed beside her. He nods, quietly encouraging. “We want what you want,” Leia replies.

“Well then.” Mon resumes kissing Leia, and Leia forgets what her problem even was.

.

Wedge reflects that he’s probably batting _way_ out of his league, going to bed with the Chancellor of the Alliance and the Last Princess of Alderaan. His thing for powerful women in positions of authority might be getting slightly out of control.

But they both seem to be enjoying themselves, so Wedge isn’t going to think about that too much.

Especially when the Chancellor is on her back, her legs open and Wedge is lying between then whilst the Princess is tucked alongside him for a demonstration. It’s a close fit, both of them curled between Mon’s thighs. Mon lies bare above them, glistening wet. Wedge uses the hand that he has free to spread Mon’s labia, exposing her fully to him and Leia. “You need to have a plan of attack,” Wedge tells Leia. He knows full well and good that Leia’s perfectly capable of getting Mon off on her own, but Wedge does have the gift of knowing exactly what Mon likes, and besides; this little game of teaching has it’s own fun. The anticipation is probably driving Mon wild. “For Mon, it’s always best if she’s on the edge before you even start down here; look how wet she is.” Wedge dips a finger into Mon’s core, spreading the wetness up, finger ghosting over her clit. Mon utters a little gasp.

Wedge draws away, his fingertip glistening, and he offers the pad of his finger to Leia. She takes it into her mouth and sucks, getting her first taste of Mon’s juices. “Yeah.” Leia nods with no small degree of seriousness.

“And then, you need to make sure that you’re spreading all that goodness around. So. Start at the core, drag up, and suck. She likes it intense; fast on her clit, slow everywhere else. Want a demonstration?”

Leia’s breathy yes comes at the same time as Mon’s admonishment of, “Get on with it Antilles.”

“Yes ma’am.” And Wedge dives in, doing exactly what he said he would. He pushes his tongue into her core, tasting how sweet she is beneath him, gathering the slick and then pushing it upwards in a line straight towards her clit. He finds it with well practised ease, pushing his tongue flat against it, repeating the action a few times before sucking hard. Mon feels every muscle in her body tighten, her entire awareness contract down to just that tiny bundle of nerves. She needs more, desperately, thrusting her hips towards his mouth.

He just lifts off and laughs. “See?” he says to Leia. “Easy. You want a go?”

Leia nods, and Wedge shifts so that she has access. She crawls forward. She uses her fingers to spread Mon’s labia, spending a moment looking and examining, and then her tongue is there, doing exactly what Wedge’s did, dipping her tongue into the core of Mon’s wetness and then up to her clit. Leia is less demanding than Wedge, less intent, but Mon thinks that will come with time. When Wedge says “Harder,” Leia follows the instruction, and Mon lets out a deep moan. Her fingers clutch in the sheets on her bed. These two will be the death of her. “Yeah, that’s it,” Wedge says.

His hand is splayed over Mon’s thigh, the edges of his fingers grazing over the bone of her hip, helping to keep her steady for Leia. Mon isn’t sure where his other hand is. Tangled inbetween his and Leia’s bodies, she suspects. That suspicion is confirmed when Leia makes a sudden gasp, followed by a moan drawn right from the back of her throat. Wedge must be putting his hand to good use. Too bad that it’s broken Leia’s rhythm on Mon’s clit, leaving Mon desperate and aching for more.

“Wedge!” Leia tries to resume what she was doing, but every time Wedge flicks his thumb over her clit she gasps.

“Just making a suggestion,” Wedge says, in his irascible way. “A combination is always good.” To make his point even further, he slides a finger into Leia, pushing up into her and opening her up as he continues to work at her clit.

Rocking into Wedge’s hand, needing him deeper inside of her, for him to give her more, Leia considers his words. But that’s difficult when Wedge is sending waves of pleasure through her body. “I like the sound of that. But you’ll have to stop doing that if I’m going to have a chance of doing this properly.”

Wedge grumbles, but he sees Leia’s point. For both of them, the intention of the evening is to make Mon feel good. He pulls away from Leia. “What will I do now then?”

“Get up here and kiss me?” Mon suggests.

Wedge can see the appeal in that. So he does so, and Mon kisses him just as Leia slides a finger into her, making her quietly moan and gasp. “At least two, Lei, she can take it, I’d go for three,” Wedge instructs, before Mon tugs him to her fully and makes him shut up. He talks too bloody much, always has. Leia follows Wedge’s instructions, and soon Mon has three fingers inside of her whilst Leia laps at her clit. The feeling is incredible, and Mon can feel her orgasm slowly building. Her ability to kiss Wedge with any sort of finesse vanishes, as she pants and writhes as Leia takes her closer and closer to the edge.

Leia doesn’t let up, and soon Mon is crying out into Wedge’s mouth as her orgasm hits. Leia takes her right through it, as Wedge holds her close, fingers grazing across her skin. When Mon finally comes down, she’s greeted by two very smug faces, looking very pleased with themselves.

“Right,” Mon says, trying to disguise how shaky her breath is. “You two both look far too composed. Time to change that.”

.

Leia and Wedge both take orders stupendously well; Wedge especially. He gets off on it, which explains many things about him, Mon thinks.

Given that Leia has just proved how good she can be with her mouth, Mon orders her to go down on Wedge. Leia does it eagerly, and the show that they put on is a good one, one that speaks to the experience they both have with each other.

When Wedge is getting close, Mon orders Leia off him. She pushes Leia down onto the bed, orders Wedge not to touch himself, and proceeds to finger a very wet Leia to her first orgasm of the evening. Leia is quiet and contained about her pleasure, but she still quakes around Mon’s fingers and curls up to recover from it.

At this point, Wedge is sitting on the edge of the bed, cock hard and curving towards his belly, and is clenching his hands very tight to make sure that he obeys Mon’s orders. Mon just smiles at him. “Get over here Wedge. You’ve been good. Let’s see if we can’t reward you.” Wedge scurries over, and Mon pushes him flat onto the bed, swinging her leg over his hips to pin him down. He pants as he tries desperately not to rut up into her.

She kisses him sweetly. “Wedge, would you like to fuck me?” she asks. “Leia, do you think I should let him do that?”

“Yes, yes, I think you should, he’s very good at that Mon.” Leia rolls over so she’s right next to them, and kisses Wedge briefly. Wedge rolls his hips, and Mon is ready for him to be inside her yesterday.

“Please, please ma’am, let me fuck you, I’ll make it feel so good.” The way Wedge squirms under her indicates as much. Mon lifts her hips, and Wedge guides himself inside her.

She’s fucked Wedge before, knows the weight of him and exactly how he feels as he slides inside of her, but the sensation delights her each time. Mon takes her time fully seating herself on him, enveloping him until he is buried completely inside of her. He rocks upwards, wanting even more; Mon just runs her hand over his chest and enjoys the way he’s pinned to the bed. He whines in frustration, and his hands move upwards to clutch at Mon’s hips, wanting the extra bit of leverage.

“Nope, none of that,” Mon says. She lifts his hands away. “Leia, if you would?” She offers Wedge’s hands to Leia. “I think we should pin him down.” Wedge groans, but Leia smirks, positioning herself behind Wedge and lifting his head into her lap as then leans over and pins his wrists to the bed. “Much better.” Mon lifts herself up, using her hands on Wedge’s chest for leverage, and starts fucking him.

He meets her as well as he can, thrusting up into her every time she comes back down, but largely he’s content to be used, for Mon and Leia to overpower him. Mon watches as he bites his lip, closes his eyes to try and hold on for as long as he can, so she can wring every last drop of pleasure she can from him.

His hips snap sharper as he gets closer. He’s quivering. “I’m sorry ma’am, I don’t think—”

“Come for us,” Leia whispers.

“It’s alright, Wedge,” Mon says. She continues her rhythm, until Wedge sputters and she can feel the rush of him coming inside of her. She rocks him softly to completion, and then sits, his cock still inside her, as he breathes his way back to reality. She wriggles on his softening cock, because she’s still on edge, so close but not quite there yet.

Leia’s released his hands, and once Wedge realises he’s free, it doesn’t take long before he’s sitting up, pushing Mon over and then hooking her legs over his shoulders as he attacks Mon’s clit. He licks with single-minded determination, determined to bring her off with his tongue the way he didn’t quite manage with his cock.

He’s proved, time and time again that he’s good at it, that he enjoys it like nothing else, not like some men Mon has taken to bed who always seemed to see it as a chore; Wedge is whole-hearted and unabashed about how much he adores the opportunity to eat her out. Even when it involves cleaning up his own orgasm, his semen undoubtedly mixing with her juices but that doesn’t seem to stop him. He licks all along her slit, tongue diving into her core before returning to dance and flit against her clit, a rhythm that teases just as much as it brings Mon closer and closer to the edge.

She quakes against Wedge’s mouth as he tips her over, barely able to suppress her own screams, and he just keeps going, sucking at her clit and holding her down until Mon is through her second orgasm of the night and racing towards a third, because Wedge has never known when to quit. Mon can’t bring it in herself to complain, not when his tongue feels so good lapping against her clit, sending sparks rising in her belly as something coils deep inside of her. And especially not when Leia slides in behind her, Leia’s small hands covering Mon’s breasts, fingers grazing across her nipples to just add and heighten Mon’s pleasure. She is surrounded by these two, and it seems they have finally got their way; Mon is lost in pleasure.

Wedge brings her, panting and barely able to think straight, to a third orgasm, one deep and rich and sustained. He pulls her through it and for a small moment Mon wonders whether he has the audacity to try for another, but he slows, coaxing her through the aftershocks until she’s too tender for anything more. Mon flops into Leia’s waiting arms, too exhausted to think anything.

“Everyone happy?” Wedge asks. Two people murmur in agreement. Wedge pulls the covers over them. “Excellent.”

.

Mon wakes up in the early morning to the general realisation that she’s sticky and sweaty, and that maybe they should all have stayed awake long enough for someone to clean up.

Her second realisation, as she blinks her way into fully conscious thought, is that the bed beside her is rocking and there’s a succession of soft moans emitting from the pillow beside her. She opens her eyes fully, not moving quite yet, except to turn her head.

Wedge and Leia are fucking. No. That’s too coarse a word for what they’re doing right now. Their fingers are entwined, hands held together and pushed against the bed, and their mouths are settled together, brushing kisses as they rock together. It’s an incredibly intimate sight.

Mon knew that they were sleeping together. That much was very clear throughout the course of the evening. But this is something deeper than that. Mon doesn’t think they’re in love, not yet; she’s not sure they ever will be. But they do clearly care for each other deeply, and have found some solace in this war with each other. If they want to draw her into it, every now and then, like they did last night, Mon is quite happy to oblige them both.

She doesn’t interrupt their quiet love-making.

Eventually, Wedge moans low in his throat and he nestles his head into Leia’s shoulder as he comes. He disentangles one of his hands from Leia’s and rubs her to completion, and then the pair of them roll over, still tight in each other’s embrace, and seem intent on going back to sleep.

Mon waits until they’ve drifted off before she crawls out of the bed, leaving them to sleep on. They may have given her a night’s release from her duties, reminded her that she is a person and not just an erstwhile figure head, a woman in white on a pedestal, maiden mother of the Rebellion, but… there is still work to be done. And it’s her job to do it.

She glances back at them from the door to her private refresher. Wedge’s hair is spread out across the pillow in every direction, a wild mess, whilst Leia is just a dark head and pale skin in his arms. They both look content.

And in this war, that’s all anyone can hope for. A moment of peace. They’ve given it to her; now, she will give it back to them.


End file.
